


Robin & Batman

by Arsidias



Category: Batman (Comics), Batman and Robin (Comics), Batman: The Animated Series, Robin (Comics)
Genre: Alternate Origin Story, Alternative Perspective, Gen, Origin Story
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-04-24
Updated: 2019-04-24
Packaged: 2020-01-25 21:02:16
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,023
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18582511
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Arsidias/pseuds/Arsidias
Summary: A re-telling of Robin's origin from Dick Grayson's perspective. Following the murder of his parents, Dick Grayson sets out for revenge against their killer, Tony Zucco. But the trail leads him to the most powerful mobster in the city: Boss Thorne. Along the way he tangles with crooked cops, killer cooks, and the mysterious "Batman."





	1. Bedtime Story

The arrow sailed through the air with incredible force. It smashed into the arrow which was already in the target, and split it completely in two. The judge examined the target, his eyes wide. 

"Incredible!" The judge exclaimed. "It's in exactly the same spot! I've never seen the like." 

The old beggar smiled a cocky little smile as he lowered his bow. They'd all laughed when he'd entered the archery contest, but no one was laughing now. No one, that is, except for the sheriff. The great bear of a man let out a hearty chuckle. 

"You've given yourself away, my friend." the sheriff intoned with a smirk. He gestured to his men. "Seize him! Don't let him get away!"

Before the old beggar could move, the sheriff's men were upon him. The sheriff strode forward and, with one fluid motion, pulled a handkerchief from his pocket and wiped a good twenty years off the beggars face. The dirt and paint that had made up the "disguise" was plain as day when the sheriff tossed the handkerchief to the ground.

The old beggar's face was gone, and in its place was young, handsome visage that the sheriff knew all too well. 

"I knew it!" the sheriff exclaimed with terrifying glee. "Only Robin Hood could have made that shot!" He sneered. "You just couldn't resist, could you?"

Robin shrugged. "Well I couldn't let people think you were the best archer in Nottingham, could I?" 

"Funny thing," the sheriff replied. "After you've been hanged, I will be." 

"What is all this?" The prince demanded from his viewing box. "Sheriff, you're not being a sore loser, are you? You can't arrest a man for beating you at a contest." 

The sheriff turned to the prince, and made a half bow. It wasn't the proper courtesy for a royal, but it was more respect than Prince John was due. 

"No my prince, I cannot." The sheriff replied. "But I can arrest him for being the most notorious outlaw in all of England!" The crowd gasped when--

"Wait, dad, I don't get it." 

John Grayson looked up from the book. His son, Dick, was safely nestled under the covers but far from asleep. There was a piercing, inquisitive look in his eyes. 

"You don't get what?" John asked. As far as he could tell the story had been relatively straightforward. 

“I thought Robin Hood was a good guy." Dick said. 

"Well, yes, of course." John replied. 

"But the sheriff just said he was an outlaw. Aren't outlaws bad guys?" 

"Not exactly," John said with a shrug "an outlaw is just somebody who breaks the law." 

"But don't only bad guys break the law?" 

"Um, well... It's complicated." John replied. He hadn't counted on a simple bedtime story becoming an ethics lecture, and he wasn't the least bit prepared. 

"You see Dick, the law is supposed to protect people. But sometimes the law is not enough. Sometimes people like the sheriff... or the prince, they use the law as an excuse to hurt people."

"So it's good to break the law?' Dick asked. This was not the lesson John had meant to impart, and young Dick seemed far too excited at the prospect of criminality. 

"Well, only in... certain circumstances..." John was floundering. He felt a wave of relief when a knock at the door interrupted story time. He looked up to see his wife, Mary. 

"Johnny, Bob's waiting for you outside. He says it's important." 

"It always is." John sighed. He sloppily folded over the corner of the page and set his book down. 

"You'll find out how it ends next time, huh Dick?” John said with a smile. “And no reading ahead. That's cheating." 

Outside the Graysons’ trailer, Zucco surveyed the scene around him. The tents were all up, but everything else was still under construction. Zucco watched an endless procession of clowns, animals, costumers, dancers, and stagehands carrying equipment. He turned to Bob Haley with a crooked half smile. 

"Nice little operation, you've got here." Zucco said. "But where's the sideshow? You know: leopard boy, lobster girl, that kind of thing?" 

Haley shook his head. "I don't believe in exploiting the differently abled, Mr. Zucco." 

Zucco shrugged. "Just as well. This town's a freakshow already." Zucco pulled a cigarette out of his pocket. A wave of disdain washed over Haley's face, but Zucco ignored. "You probably heard about the giant bat? Hangs out downtown?"

Haley snorted. "Next you'll be telling me about alligators in the sewers." 

"Not alligators." Zucco lit his cigarette. "Crocodiles." 

"Bob, you wanted to see me?" John strolled up to Haley and Zucco. 

“Who’s this?” Zucco asked. He glanced up and down John’s lithe, athletic figure. “Your muscle?” 

“Ah, Mr. Zucco, this is Mr. Grayson. He and his family have a stake in my circus. I wanted to consult with him about--”

“Grayson…” Zucco interrupted, “ like the poster?” 

Zucco gestured towards a long, narrow banner that covered the entire height of the main tent. Crude cartoon depictions of John and Mary were stradling a trapeze with young Dick right behind them. Golden lettering underneath them spelled out: “The Flying Graysons.” John looked at the poster and nodded. 

Zucco made a little half bow. John was reminded of the sheriff from his son’s book. 

“I didn’t know I’d be meeting such a big star.” Zucco said, condescension dripping from every word. 

“Big enough that Mr. Haley checks with me before he makes any decisions.” John replied, nonplussed. 

“Well that’s just peachy. I’m happy the two of you have that all worked out.” Zucco took a long drag of his cigarette. “But there’s really no decision to make. You already decided to do business in Gotham. That means you already decided to give a cut to Boss Thorne.”

“Does it, now?” John asked. He’d dealt with this type before. “And does your ‘Boss Thorne’ know that tomorrow’s show is a charity benefit?” 

Zucco shrugged. “You can give your cut to whoever you want. As long as Boss Thorne gets his.” 

“Seems like Boss Thorne has a bit of an entitlement complex, huh Bob?” John turned to Haley with a grin. 

Haley didn’t see any humor in the situation. “That ticket money is for the less fortunate.” he said firmly. 

“If you don’t pay Thorne what you owe him. You’re liable to end up less fortunate.” Zucco said with a sneer. 

“I’ve heard enough.” John said dismissively. “Go back and tell Mr. Thorne that we aren’t intimidated by low-rent, two bit thugs.” 

“I’ll show you intimidatin’” Zucco muttered as he reached under his coat. 

In an instant John belted him one in the chest and wrested a .22 caliber pistol out of Zucco’s hand. 

“We’ve heard you offer, Mr. Zucco.” John said, as he pulled the bullets out of the gun, “here’s ours: we keep the bullets, and we generously don’t tell the police about the felony assault you just committed. Oh, and you can have this back.”

John held the gun by the barrel and whipped the handle into Zucco’s face. The force was enough to knock Zucco to the ground. John tossed the empty gun on top of him. 

“You’re not welcome here Zucco. And neither is Boss Thorne.” John shouted. 

A small crowd of workers had gathered in the commotion. They were too spooked by Zucco’s pistol to cheer, but John’s handling of the situation met with their general approval. 

Zucco scrambled to his feet. The crowd parted as he staggered off. 

John was perhaps a little too pleased with himself, but his self-satisfied smile faded when he saw young Dick among the crowd. 

“Dick, what are you doing out of bed?” John asked, reproachfully. “We have a performance tomorrow, you need rest.” 

“I heard shouting.” Dick said. The trailer was only a few feet away, and Zucco hadn’t exactly been quiet. 

“Oh you did, huh?” John replied, a little embarrassed. “Uh, exactly how much did you see just now?”

“All of it.” Dick replied, a little too excited. “You really gave that guy what for, huh dad?” Dick mimed the pistol whipping gesture with his little fists. This made John thoroughly uneasy. 

“Now look Dick, I don’t want you getting the idea that violence is the answer.” John said, painfully aware that his own actions were not setting the best example. 

“It’s just…” John paused, thinking of what to say. “Sometimes it’s the only language these people understand.” 

“No, I get it dad.” Dick said, nodding. “Like Robin Hood.”


	2. The Center Ring

By the following evening, all the unpleasantness with Tony Zucco had been forgotten. It was a performance night, and everyone, from the silliest roustabout to the most serious clown, was completely focused on putting on a show.

In the center ring, Dick flew through the air with what, to the untrained eye, appeared to be the greatest of ease. It was actually the result of years of hard work and training. From the time he could walk, Dick had been taught to swing on a silken cord. By this point it was second nature to him.

Dick did a front flip and barely, just barely, grabbed his mother’s outstretched arms. She swung him around and catapulted him towards his father. Dick and his father went into a tumble at the same time. Their feet touched together in the air and they each kicked in unison.

The force was barely enough to propel John to Mary. She grabbed him and deftly tossed him towards an empty trapeze. But the force from John’s kick was enough to send Dick soaring. He shot off like a rocket.

Dick flipped through the air a half-dozen times and alighted on a tiny platform atop a pole in the center ring. The crowd erupted. Dick knew this was what they had all been waiting for. Mr. Todd had gotten them warmed up, but there was a reason Mr. Todd was not in the center ring.

In the rush of performing, Dick had almost forgotten the sinister figure from last night, with his cheap suit and expensive demands. In the light of Haley’s Three Ring Circus, bad feelings seemed to simply melt away. It was almost impossible to maintain a bad mood amidst all the glitz and glamor. But down in the grandstands, Barbara Gordon was trying her best.

Barbara scowled as the roustabouts cleared out the net to make room for the clowns. She struggled to maintain that scowl as the clowns, with their improbably large shoes and impossibly small cars, executed their expert routine. Her father Jim, seated next to her, wore an expression of concern.

“Come on, Barbara, why the long face?” he pleaded “you love the circus.”

“I loved it when I was five, dad.” she replied, petulantly. “In case you didn’t notice, all this time you’ve been working, I’ve been getting older.”

“Oh, I’ve noticed.” Jim replied, still concerned. “It’s just, my job is important. You know that.”

“Please dad, give it a rest.” Barbara rolled her eyes. “Isn’t that why you dragged me here tonight? So you wouldn’t have to actually talk to me?”

Jim started to defend himself, but the words choked in his throat. She had a point. He decided instead to focus on the clowns. He’d always liked clowns.

John was focusing on the clowns as well. He checked his watch.

“We’ve got about half an hour.” John said, glancing at Mary.

“I wanna do the big jump!” Dick exclaimed. He’d put a jacket on over his green leotard, but he was still dressed for the show.

Mary patted him on his shoulder. “Maybe when you’re older.”

“Maybe never.” John said, sternly. “I trained my whole life to be able to do a jump like this. And frankly, I’m still not very good.” It was supposed to be a joke, but there was a trace of nervous tension in his voice.

Dick was about to argue, Mary could see that. He always wanted to do the whole show. But they were already pushing it by having him do the first half. Setting aside child labor laws or child endangerment statutes, it was past his bedtime.

“Dick,” Mary began, gently trying to diffuse the situation. “Why don’t you go help Mr. Todd with the equipment.”

“But I--” Dick protested as a matter of course.

“Go help Mr. Todd.” Mary repeated, firmly.

Dick left. He knew there was no point in arguing. Family wasn’t a democracy. And even it it was, he’d always be outvoted two to one.

  
When Dick was safely out of earshot, Mary turned to John.

  
“Okay, big man.” She began. “I can tell when something's bothering you. Spill it.”

“It’s foolishness.” John replied. “Doing a jump like this without a net.”

“Who’s Anette? Should I be jealous?” Mary smiled. Neither one of them was very good at jokes. When she saw humor wasn’t going to cut it, Mary took a different tack.

“Look, we’ve been over this,” Mary explained. “It’s for charity. Bob needs a big finish.”

John sighed. “Mary, I know you think of yourself as a daredevil.”

“Actually I prefer the term ‘daredoll’” Mary corrected him. John ignored this and pressed on.

“Don’t you think, now that Dick is part of the act, we could stand to be a little less… daring?”

Mary smiled. “This coming from the guy who pistol whipped a gangster last night.”

John grinned, sheepish. “I was hoping you’d forgotten about that.”

“It was a pretty striking image.” Mary replied. “Look, we both like to live dangerously. So does Dick, you saw him out there tonight.”

“I suppose,” John replied. He didn’t sound happy.

“Better for him to be on the trapeze with us than playing chicken on the railroad tracks by himself.” Mary said.

“That seems like a false dichotomy.” John muttered, weakly.

“Look, we’ve done this jump a thousand times and we’ve never fallen before. So why worry about a net?”

“Who’s Annette?” John asked, with a smile.

“That’s the spirit.” Mary smiled back at him. “We can talk about changing the finale tomorrow. But for tonight: let’s live dangerously.”

A bit further backstage, Mr. Todd made the final adjustments to the big trapeze.

“That should do it.” He said aloud, to himself more than anybody. “You’ve been a great help, Dick.”

Todd smiled at the young boy. Dick hadn’t been much of a help, not really. But there was only so much a child’s tiny hands could do. And it made Todd feel important to have an assistant.

“We just have to haul it up to the scaffold.” Todd said, wiping the sweat from his brow. “I’ll talk to Matt about getting the pulleys set up. You hold down the fort, okay champ?”

Todd squeezed Dick’s shoulder and headed off, leaving the boy alone. At least, it seemed like he was alone, at first.

Dick thought he heard a noise, and whirled around. He saw something move behind the ropes. He dashed over and nearly collided with Tony Zucco, still in the same ratty suit from yesterday.

“Whoa there, killer!” Zucco exclaimed, raising his hands in a mock defensive gesture. In his right hand he had an old coke bottle, made from clear green glass.

“You’re not supposed to be here.” Dick said, in a tone which would have been terrifying coming from an adult. Zucco gave a nervous chuckle.

“Just looking for the John, little man.”

Dick pointed up towards the wings behind the center ring. “My dad is up there.”

“That’s not what I meant by… never mind.” Zucco shuffled off. “See you around, kid.”

Dick stood and stared for a while. There was something odd about Zucco’s tone. He’d sounded almost happy. Which didn’t make sense. He hadn’t gotten his money, and dad had popped him one. What did he have to be happy about?

“Dick!” Mr. Todd shouted. Dick snapped back to reality. “Help me get this stuff on the pulleys. Your mom and dad are almost on!”

Minutes later, the special big trapeze had been hoisted to the roof of the tent and affixed to the scaffolding.

The audience barely noticed. They were still focused on the clowns. That was the secret. All the new equipment and stagecraft seemed to appear by magic, just because everyone was looking the other way.

Mary stood atop one platform. She held her hands out to maintain balance. The short sleeves on her pink leotard formed a nice contrast to her blue vest. The sewn-on “M” patch on her chest was far too small for the audience to read at this distance. But it was a detail of the costume she especially liked. Her own personal touch.

John stood at the ready on his own platform, a hundred feet away. His orange leotard and purple vest were a far less pleasing color combination, and the black “J” on his chest was even less legible than Mary’s “M.” He took a deep breath. This was it.

John grabbed hold of the trapeze bar and dived down. Everyone in the audience held their breath, so did John.

John let go at just the right moment, the apex of the swing. He grabbed Mary by the wrists and he passed over her, and pulled her into the air with him.

Mary caught hold of the next trapeze bar with her feet. Her little pointed pixie boots were all that stood between them and death.

They catapulted off of this bar and onto the next. Now it was John’s turn to grab on with his feet. His heart skipped a beat as he extended his powerful legs to their full length. He breathed a sigh of relief as his ankles caught hold of the bar. He smiled down at Mary. But she wasn’t smiling.

It took John a moment to realize they were still falling. It wasn’t possible. He’d caught the bar. He could still feel it on his ankles. How could they still be falling? It couldn’t be happening, and yet it was. The rope was gone.

Behind Mary’s terrified face, the ground was drawing closer.

A moment later, everything went dark.


End file.
